Walking Dead: Origins
by The County's Best Spook
Summary: When Allen is confronted with the living dead, he does what he can to survive with his group of buddies.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello, welcome back to KNCI Sacramento news. You'll want to stay inside today. If you leave the home today, you'll want to wear a mask. There is a terrible virus going around. Overnight, this virus has spread from Ontario, Canada all the way to Florida and Georgia. This sickness is the by-product of a science experiment, so it is not natural. If you end up getting this virus, report immediately to the hospital. If you or a lov -" I turned off the TV. Bullshit. Probably just the flu or something.

"Hey, Allen?"

"Yeah?" I asked, still facing the TV. What was he gonna say? "What, Eric?"

"Maybe we should've kept watching, bro," said Eric.

"It's just the flu, man, it's bullshit. No need to worry." I turned to look at him.

"I never got my flu shot, though," came his reply.

"I never got a flu shot in my life, and just look at me now." I smirked and struck a pose, and Eric laughed. "Not bad, eh?" We both laugh this time.

"Yeah, not bad. Back to reality, though. We should probably worry about this more," said Eric.

"Yeah, right. You already worry too much," is the reply I give him.

"This is serious, bro. Ontario to Florida overnight? It's spreading fast, bro."

"Shut up." I said.

"Bro, this is seri-"

"I just told you to shut up, right?" I cracked open a beer. "This is my house, and these are my rules. As long as you are in my house, you live by my rules." I was starting to get impatient with him. "If you don't like my rules, you can get your ass out of my house and catch that goddamned virus," I threatened him. Even though it was just the flu. I decided to play up the moment. "So, you best keep your mouth closed about this fucking 'virus,' if you don't want to catch it." Eric was furious now.

"Fuck you," he said, and walked out the front door and slammed it.


	2. Chapter 2

I knocked on the door in front of my face. Tim's voice answered, "Yeah, come in."

"Hey, it's Allen," I said as I opened the door. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much," he said, which was quite obvious as he had a super bowl recording on TV and a Coors Light in his hand. "How 'bout you?" he asked as I stepped inside.

"Lookin' for Eric."

"Yeah, he's pretty pissed at you, man," Tim said over his shoulder.

"Shit. Where is he?"

"I dunno. Said he was going somewhere, and he left. Want a beer?" He gestured towards the fridge.

"Nah, thanks."

"More for me, then. Why're you looking for Eric?"

"Why do you think?" I asked, very impatient.

"Point taken," he said, still watching the seven-month-old game.

"Welp," I decided, "I'm going to look at his house. Tell me if you see him." My hand was on the doorknob when I spotted a blood stain on the door. "How'd that get there?"

Tim looked over his shoulder. "Oh, Eric scared the shit outta me when he came in without knocking, so I whacked him on the head real hard with my beer."

"That's bullshit." I spotted more drops of blood leading down the hall. "Why is there blood down the hall?"

"He went to patch himself up down there," said Tim.

I walked down the hall, following the blood spots.

"Hey! Don't you go down that hall!" cried Tim. I continued down the hall. "I'm fucking warning you!"

The blood drops got closer together until it became a streak of blood. It turned in to Tim's room and I followed it. It led under the bed.

I lay down and looked under the bed and started as I saw a pair of dead eyes staring back at me.

"Shit," I mumbled. "Eric. You're dead." I grabbed his arm and dragged his lifeless body out back down the hall. Eventually, after travelling about ten feet, I decided to carry him.

I decided to call 9-1-1.

"Yes, my friend. . . Allen. . . No, I want the police. . . My friend. . . He murdered my other. . . My other friend. . . No, he used a beer bottle, supposedly. . . He's a real close friend, yeah. . . Twelve minutes? Okay. . ." I sighed.

"Hey, Tim! Good news! Eric ' dead, and you are wanted!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Cops'll be here in eleven minutes!" I sighed.

"You called 9-1-1, you fucker? What the fuck!" Tim finally got off his lazy, fat ass and came towards me.

"What are you gonna do, _murder me?_ The cops are coming! That'll just be more proof!" I laughed. If I had to fight a ten minute fight to get Tim arrested, I would do it. He raised his beer above his head, and as it came down I thwacked it out of his grip.


End file.
